


The Meaning of the Word ‘Gaiety’

by michaeljagger



Series: that’s how I wanna go [2]
Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mike says gay rights, Pining from beyond the grave, tw: q slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 18:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaeljagger/pseuds/michaeljagger
Summary: Alison groaned. “I told Pat not to do circle time, I told him it would only end in tears-“





	The Meaning of the Word ‘Gaiety’

**Author's Note:**

> This got VERY long. A sequel to my previous ‘It Was Time for Thomas to Leave; He Had Seen Everything’.
> 
> Edited to fix typos because I forgot to proofread like an idiot. And I forgot to tag my girl Mary!
> 
> Edited again to change some more stuff I wasn’t happy with. Again, I’m a non-proofreading idiot. Bone ape!

“I got Alison to put the chairs in a circle for today,” Pat said. “Good idea, right?”

Fanny narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “To what end?”

“Well, I thought it might make it easier for us to, y’know, talk to each other. Because this way no-one has to stand up in front of everyone.”

“ _ I  _ don’t mind standing up in front of everyone.”

“Well, Captain, that’s fine, but not everyone is as -”

“Nor do I.”

“Okay, Julian, thank you.” Pat’s moustache was beginning to droop above his smile. “I just find it helps everyone to feel nice and equal. We used to do this at Scouts.”

“I think it’s fun!” Kitty said. “Now I can look at everyone properly!”

Julian crossed his legs. “Mind  _ where _ you look.”

“What are we doing?” demanded Fanny.

“Ah, well, I was just getting to that,” Pat said. “It’s going to be a sort of question-and-answer session.”

“Who’s being questioned?” Julian said, straightening his tie. “Is it me?”

“No, no, it’s for all of us. Only, one at a time, of course. Basically, if anyone has a question you’ve always wanted to ask one of the other ghosts, just stick your hand up - oh, okay. Julian?”

Julian lowered his hand, a grisly smile on his face. “Thomas.”

Thomas gulped. “Julian?”

“I’ve always wanted to know  _ exactly _ how it feels to get shot. Don’t spare the details, will you?”

Thomas squirmed in his seat, touching the bloodstain on his front. “I mean. One might say that, um, the pain is so blinding that one… falls immediately unconscious, but what I  _ imagine _ -“

“Oh, come on,” Julian scoffed. “You finally have something interesting to tell us, and then you can’t remember the gory details? I mean, how’s it feel when the bullet actually  _ penetrates.” _

Pat cleared his throat. “Julian -“

Julian turned to him sharply. “I am not a pervert!”

“That wasn’t what I - well, I was thinking I could answer your question,” Pat said, indicating his neck. “I mean, I was alive for a few minutes after. Honestly, it was a stinging sensation more than anything else -“

Julian gave him a withering look. “I meant shot with a bullet, okay, Scoutmaster? I didn’t come to play.”

“I could answer your question, Julian,” the Captain said.

“You?” Julian said. “No way. If you’d ever been shot, we would have heard all about it by now. Ad nauseum.”

The others murmured in agreement, and the Captain looked perturbed. “I was. In ‘41.”

“Where?” said Thomas. He was starting to turn red. “The Battle of Attention Hog?”

It wasn’t particularly funny, but Mary and Kitty still giggled. The Captain puffed out his chest.

“You look like pigeon,” Robin said. The Captain ignored him.

“No. If you  _ must _ know, the new recruits were shooting at Ovaltine cans for practice and one of them rather missed the mark. Anyway, I can prove it.”

He started to unbutton his jacket. Julian began to hum a striptease tune, and the Captain rolled his eyes. He had only undone two buttons, to show a neatly stitched scar just below his collarbone.

“You see? And, to answer your question, it was quite like pulling a muscle. In the worst possible way.”

“Oh. Well, alright then,” Julian said, looking disappointed.

Thomas was starting to turn red. “I too have a gunshot wound! See?”

He lifted his shirt. Everyone stared for several aghast moments.

“Aye, well,” Pat eventually said, his voice shaky. “I suppose they didn’t have antiseptic back then, did they? Anyway.” He indicated the Captain’s less horrifying scar. “Is that how you, er…”

“No. That was something else.”

“Which brings me to my question!” Thomas cried, tucking his shirt back in. “Just how  _ did _ you die, Captain?”

A hush fell for a few seconds. Even Thomas wavered. Then the Captain spoke.

“I’m not going to answer that.”

“Oh, go on.”

“No. That’s something I’ll take to my… well, proverbial.”

“That’s hardly fair! Some of us don’t have the luxury of keeping our cause of death secret.”

“Quite right,” Humphrey said, and Mary too made a noise of agreement.

“Oh, do spill,” Julian said. “We won’t laugh at you. Was it something stupid?”

“Now, now,” Pat said. “Nobody  _ has  _ to answer the questions. And people’s deaths can be quite a sensitive subject. Kitty, for instance -“

On cue, Kitty immediately burst into tears.

“Yes, well, there you are,” Pat said, raising his voice over her sobs. “So if we could just move on to someone else’s question-“

“No!” Thomas jumped from his seat. “I won’t be spurned! I deserve an answer!”

“Careful, mate,” Julian said. “You sound like Paxman.”

The Captain was giving him a hard stare, his eyes narrowed. “ _ No _ , Thomas.”

“You speak to me as you would a child!” Thomas stamped his foot.

“Well, you’re acting like one.”

“Do you want me to drown myself in the lake, Captain? Because it sounds like you want me to drown myself in the lake.”

“Then go! Perhaps then we can have some peace for a few hours. I only wish it had more permanent effects.”

“Now, now,” Pat said, getting between them. “Let’s not say anything we’ll regret, fellas.”

“As if this illiterate brute were capable of self-reflection!” Thomas shouted. At this, Robin stood up.

“What wrong with being illiterate, huh?”

“Now, now -“

Everyone was beginning to shout and take sides, except for Julian, who was egging on both. Eventually, Thomas let out a shriek.

“Enough! This can no longer be abided… abode… I will not put up with it! I shall seek counsel!”

“Where?” Mary said. “In the plague pit?”

Thomas made a huffy, high-pitched noise and stalked off. The confused silence that usually followed his fits settled for a few moments.

“Right. Well,” Pat said. “Anyone else? No?”

 

“Alison! Fair lady.”

Thomas swept into his requisite deep bow.

“Yeah?” Alison said, through a mouthful of Frosties.

“Fair Alison-“

“Stop saying ‘fair’.”

“Alison, I am most vexed.” He sunk into the chair opposite, striking a distressed attitude. “By that  _ boor _ , that  _ brute _ , that utter wank-“

Alison groaned. “I  _ told  _ Pat not to do circle time, I told him it would only end in tears-“

“What am I to do?” Thomas cried. “He swaggers around playing the part of the noble hero, but I know better, Alison. I know better. I try to expose his falsity, but nobody cares to listen.”

Alison shrugged. “The Captain just needs taking down a few pegs.”

“How did you know I was talking about him?”

“He’s the only one who swaggers.”

“Yes. Quite right. There is more to you than dazzling beauty, Alison. What would you suggest I do?”

“Dunno.” She tipped her bowl to drink the cereal milk. “Actually. Let me tell you a story.”

“I am rapt.”

“So, when I was in Year Nine, there was this girl, right, Stacy Whitehouse. And she would always copy my algebra work, and then hand it in to the teacher first so it looked like  _ I  _ was the one copying.” She looked at Thomas. “Okay, I know you didn’t understand most of that, but what I’m saying is that she was a plagiarist.”

“The fiend!”

“Exactly. And I was getting sick of being embarrassed by her, right, so I decided to embarrass her right back.”

“Ah! You exposed her devious ways to all!”

“Erm, well, I never did get around to doing that, no. I just told everyone she wet the bed until she was twelve. Which was actually true, so I wasn’t really doing anything wrong.”

Thomas’s eyes glowed. “You had held onto her secret all those years, but she abused your kindness.”

“Yeah, more or less. Though, I mean… you shouldn’t spill something that’s going to ruin their whole life. Just enough to embarrass them for a bit.” Her face fell. “Like, just for the next three years.”

“Oh, I have the very thing.” He drummed his fingers excitedly on the table, or attempted to.

Alison frowned. It had been a while since she’d had the chance to retell the Stacy Whitehead story, and she realised she might have got carried away.

“I’m not going to regret this, am I?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. Mark my words, there shall be positive changes around here. An end to tyranny, dare I say!” He leapt from his chair. “Your wisdom is illuminating. I thank you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Alison stuffed her hand inside her dressing gown, worried he might try to kiss it. “You’re welcome.”

 

“Okay, okay, one more time, from the top. The computers,“ Julian said,  holding out both hands, “are  _ connected _ .” He slotted his fingers together. 

“With worms.”

“No, Mary. Now, the connection between the computers, allows you to communicate with anyone, anywhere in the world -“

“Like a carrier pigeon.”

“ _ No _ , Captain, for the last time, it is  _ not _ like a carrier pigeon, okay, because you can communicate instantaneously -“

“So like a telephone.”

“ _ No _ , Fanny!”

Thomas had been listening outside the door; he decided now was as good a time as any to step back in. Julian had his head in his hands.

“Hi, Thomas,” Pat said, looking surprised. “Julian was just telling us about the interweb.”

“ _ Net _ , Pat, inter _ net _ .”

“Sorry. Anyway, Thomas, how was the, er… lake?”

Thomas laughed. “Oh, that was silly of me. I decided there were more constructive ways to resolve personal issues.”

“Oh, yeah?” Pat said, looking hopefully between Thomas and the Captain, but Thomas simply sat down without saying anything more.

“But, Julian,” Fanny said, “you  _ said  _ it uses telephone lines, so what makes it any different -“

Julian groaned. “You know what, forget about how it works. Let me tell you about the best bit of the internet, okay, which is the por-“

“After Julian has finished,” Thomas interrupted, “may I share something?”

Pat nodded, looking surprised; it was unusual for Thomas to ask for permission before sharing. The Captain had often queried if Thomas had ever had an unexpressed thought.

“Yes, yes, but after I’m done,” Julian said. “As I was saying, one can share images via Usenet, and - I don’t know if any of you are familiar with the periodical  _ Nuts _ -“

Fanny made a disgusted noise and stood up. Julian rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Those of you of a sensitive disposition, leave now. Yes, Captain, I thought that might include you.”

“I’m not sensitive,” the Captain said, following Fanny out of the door. “I simply have far better things to do than listen to you lech.”

A smile crept over Thomas’s face. Even better, to be able to tell the story without the Captain’s attempts at obstruction.

Julian snorted. “As if. Anyway,  _ as  _ I was saying -“

“Thomas,” Pat said abruptly, with a nervous look towards Kitty. “What was it you wanted to share again?”

“I wasn’t finished!”

“Well, Julian, I think we all get the gist now. So, Thomas -?”

Thomas inhaled deeply, planning to relish this experience. He stood up.

“As you all know, I’ve resided here for over two hundred years. And in those years -“

“Not that many,” Robin grunted. “Get to point, will you?”

Thomas scowled. “Yes, all right. Listen closely, because I  _ won’t  _ repeat this.”

 

The morning’s disagreement with Thomas had been unpleasant, but by no means was it unusual. The Captain couldn’t account for the feeling of uneasiness he’d had ever since.

Of course, discussion of his death always put him somewhat on edge. It seemed like Thomas thought he was entitled to an answer, just because he was the first to show up after the event.

No, the Captain wouldn’t be sharing. Some things stayed private. And it wasn’t his fault if others just assumed he’d died in a more heroic manner. He was sure he hadn’t done anything to make them think so.

Julian was walking down the hallway towards him. The Captain dearly hoped he wasn’t about to continue his lecture on the Internet.

“Ah! Captain!”

“Hello, Julian,” the Captain said warily, and was about to ask what he wanted (because everyone in this house was always wanting something), when Julian hugged him.

Hugged him.

It was that masculine type of hug where one patted the other on the back. Julian did this twice before the Captain recovered enough to push him off.

“What in blazes are you  _ doing _ , Julian?”

Julian grinned. “Welcome to the club, pal.”

“What  _ club _ ? What on earth-“

“Well, it’s a club now, it was just me before. Come on, don’t pretend you don’t know.”

“I most certainly do not know!”

“Stop acting coy.” Julian indicated his unclothed legs. “The club? Mortis in Coitus?”

“Mortis in…” The Captain paled. “Oh,  _ God _ .”

“My Latin is a bit rusty, admittedly -”

“Where’s Thomas?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

The rest of Julian’s sentence was lost as the Captain half-ran down the hallway, sticking his head through walls in search of Thomas. When he opened the drawing-room door, he found Catherine instead.

“Captain!” she gasped. Her expression was horribly sympathetic. “I just wanted to say, even though I am technically still cross with you for making me lie to Alison, I have to say it was really horrid of Thomas to-“

“Yes, thank you, Catherine, but where  _ is  _ he?”

“The library. I think.”

“Right.” The Captain gripped his stick even harder than he already had been.

Several walls later he did indeed find Thomas in the library, languishing in the window seat.

“Hello, Captain,” he said, standing up with an infuriating smile on his face. The Captain marched towards him, stick held in the offensive position. 

“Listen to me, Thorne, I don’t know what - what these  _ rumours  _ are you’ve come up with -“

“Rumours?” Thomas said innocently, though his voice quivered slightly and he took a step back. “But I’m quite certain I saw you and Francis…”

_ Get his name out of your mouth _ , the Captain wanted to say, but to do so would have been a loss of control, and that would never, ever do.

“You have no right whatsoever to-“

“Captain!” Catherine burst in again; he hadn’t realised she was following him. “I’ll hold him down for you!”

“Now, just a moment-“ Thomas cried, but Catherine pinned him down with a rather fine rugby tackle, considering all those skirts, and the Captain advanced on him with his stick. He had intended just to reprimand him verbally, but this would do, too.

“Look here, Thorne-“

Thomas squealed and tried to escape Catherine’s grip.

“Attacked! Attacked for speaking the truth!” he gasped.

“What is this  _ racket _ ?”

The shout came from two voices at once - Alison and Fanny had both come in at the same time, from opposite sides of the room.

“What’s going on?” Alison said, avoiding Fanny’s eyes. “Why are you trying to kill Thomas?”

The three of them all started to talk at once, and soon Fanny joined in, until Alison held up her hand.

“Fine! Enough!” she said, though Catherine hadn’t stopped talking. “I don’t actually want to know. But whatever it is, can you do it more quietly? Kitty!”

“Well, I  _ do _ want to know!” Fanny said, as Alison slammed the door behind her. “What is the reason for this uncouth behaviour? In my library, no less!”

“Fanny, don’t get shrill,” the Captain said.

“How  _ dare _ you! I suppose you were the instigator in all this? It was bad enough that my idiot of a grandson allowed soldiers in the house, but to get bloody stuck with one for eternity!”

“I quite agree!” shouted Thomas. Catherine elbowed him.

The Captain reddened. “Now hang on, Fanny-”

“Will you lot please SHUT UP!” came Alison’s voice again.

 

Alison really hadn’t wanted to know, but seeing as all of the ghosts (even the plague gang) were talking of little else, she didn’t have much choice. She was eventually accosted in the kitchen by Fanny (when was the last time she’d eaten a bowl of cereal in peace?), who explained everything at her. The word ‘’pon’ was used excessively.

“Oh, my God. That’s awful.”

“Isn’t it just? I don’t know why men see fit to use this house for their debauchery.”

“No, Fanny, I mean it’s awful of Thomas. What a thing to spread around.”

“They’re all as bad as each other.”

Usually, Alison would agree, but she knew from the feeling of Coco Pops churning in her stomach that this was different. “Where’s Thomas?”

Fanny didn’t know, and neither did anyone at Food Club (the Captain was also conspicuously absent), but Alison eventually found him in a box bedroom that was currently housing a bike with a broken chain and a gilt bed frame.

“Ah! Alison! I had come here to escape the ruckus so I can work, but you, my Muse, are welcome.”

He draped himself over the bed frame in affected casualness, but Alison was pleased to see a sheepish glint in his eyes.

“Pack it in, Thomas. What the hell have you been playing at?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This!” Alison said, her face growing hot. “Telling everyone - telling everyone about the Captain. It’s not on!”

“Forgive me, I don’t… not on what?”

“It was a nasty thing to do, Thomas.” Her eyes were starting to prickle in anger; but she knew it wasn’t just directed at Thomas. “There’s things you shouldn’t spread around. You can’t just tell people that someone else is gay without their permission!”

“Gay? Ha! The man doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘gaiety’.”

“No - oh, God, you don’t know what that means.”

“Is one of the ghosts gay?” Mike had come in wearing a towel. He retrieved his pants from the bicycle’s wheel spokes where they were drying.

“Yes, but don’t get involved, you’ll just confuse him more.”

“Okay. But I support you, mate,” he said, looking in the wrong direction.

“Not this one, Mike.”

“Oh. Well, hashtag representation.”

“Pray tell - what are you talking about?” Thomas cried, as Mike left the room, whistling. Alison very often envied her husband.

“I don’t know what you would have called it, but, you know, someone who…” She rather hoped Thomas would supply the word, as it would no doubt be an offensive one, but he still looked befuddled. “Someone who prefers the company of men.”

“But of course. Every man prefers to share company with his intellectual equals.”

“You see, stuff like this is why I’m never going to fall in love with you.” She continued before Thomas could start spiralling. “I don’t just mean someone who likes being friends with men, I mean someone who… come on, Thomas, you saw the Captain with his -”

“Oh! You mean queer?” Thomas was grinning as though he’d answered a particularly tricky pub quiz question. “That’s what Julian calls him.”

“Yes! Well, no, it’s not okay to say that anymore - actually, I don’t know if it was  _ ever _ okay - but that’s what gay is. Well, that’s what it means now.”

Thomas laughed. “Dear Alison! We were all aware of his… predilections. Except Kitty, maybe. Do you not see that way he fawns over every halfway handsome man who comes into the house? I dare say he harbours the same affection for your husband as I do you. And, Julian says he’s never felt safe being around him with no trousers on.”

Alison resolved to have a word with Julian.

“Right. Well, it’s still wrong, even if everyone knew, because you’ve just done it to make him look bad.”

“I was only following your advice!”

Alison’s face flushed. She knew this was coming.

“I said something to embarrass him a bit, not ruin his life!”

“Exactly! What life has he to ruin?” He looked gleeful.

Alison paused, letting things slot into place.

“Okay. That was on me. I did drop the ball there.”

“You certainly didn’t! Alison, I cannot thank you enough for your guidance.”

He attempted to take her hand, which Alison snatched away.

“ _ Don’t _ . I think you should talk to him, okay, Thomas? Make amends.”

“What? You want me to  _ apologise _ ?”

“I didn’t say that!” Alison said, though it was what she had meant. “Just… talk.” She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself. She had hoped it would never come to this.

“It would just make me  _ really  _ happy if you did.”

She batted her eyes, feeling stupid, but it had the desired effect on Thomas.

“Oh, Alison. Of course I shall. You know I am forever your humble servant.” He paused. “Of course, it  _ was _ on your advice that I did it, so perhaps it would be proper if…”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He wasn’t quite as daft as he looked. “I’ll talk to him too. But you’re the one he’s cross with, so you do it first. Do you know where he is?”

Thomas straightened up, clearing his throat. “Yes, Robin told me he’s in the library, moping. Quite pathetic, if you ask me.”

 

The Captain wouldn’t say he was  _ upset _ . Certainly not. Seventy-six years was far too long to remain upset about anything. If anything, he was just perturbed by the duplicity of it all. He had always assumed Thomas, like the rest of them, didn’t know how it had really happened. Surely, if he had seen it, the other ghosts would all have known within the hour. Thomas could be very juvenile, a child strutting into a grown-ups’ gathering to demand attention, and simply did not have the capacity to keep something like that secret.

Except he had. He had, right up until today, and for what reason? He had reached into the Captain’s mind and twisted everything up, an interloper into those memories that he thought had only involved him and Francis.

There were other things Thomas could have seen. That  _ any _ of them could have seen (though if Fanny had, he probably would have heard about it by now). How long had they all known this about him, this precious, horrible thing? How long had they known about both of them?

Though Frankie probably wouldn’t have cared if they knew. He would have told the Captain he shouldn’t care either. He had never been uptight; he had been downright reckless. He had a sarcastic streak, and was quite horrid if he lost his temper, and when he was cheerful he would talk too much and too loudly, but try as he might the Captain could never dislike a single thing about him. All his noise, his emotion, it was because of how unbearably kind and loving he really was. It overflowed, bursting out of him in beams of light.

This was so silly and indulgent, the sort of thing Thomas would write about Alison, if it was love rather than mere infatuation, and if she was anywhere near as wonderful as Frankie (the Captain meant no offence). Frankie was what everybody called him, except for the Captain, who only called him Francis, until Frankie had pulled away from him in the middle of a heated embrace and told him that he really  _ ought _ to start calling him Frankie now. And the Captain had done what he said - he always did - though he still called him Francis in public.  _ Frankie  _ took on its own meaning. It meant being alone together, lips pressed to lips, and night after night after night together.

How odd it was to be dead and mourn for someone still alive. Though of course Frankie had to be dead himself by now. It was several years before Frankie returned to Button House. The Captain couldn’t recall exactly how many - it became hard to keep track - but it had been after the end of the war (he knew about that because Lord Button had organised a raucous party to celebrate, much to his grandmother’s chagrin). Some time after. The Captain would torture himself wondering why he never came. Perhaps it was still too painful. Or perhaps Frankie had done what he’d sworn he never would, and married, started a family, and it would have been unseemly to visit the location of his ex-lover’s coitus-induced death. Either or.

But he had come, eventually. The Captain had searched his face and seen deepened lines around his eyes, a little more grey at his temples. The first time, the visit was short and he didn’t say anything. But he continued to come, at least once a year, not always on the same date. Frankie got older and the Captain stayed the same, and listened to Frankie’s brief, murmured words that he felt he no longer had any right to respond to. Not after the way he’d spoken to him the last time - and it really had been the last time. Despite what he’d said, what he had convinced himself, the Captain had never really intended it to be.

The last visit had been a couple of years after Pat arrived. The other ghosts had learned to keep a respectful distance when Frankie showed up (even Thomas, which made his sudden turn all the more confusing). Poor Frankie must have been over eighty, so frail he had to cling to the arm of a young female relative. He still managed the unsteady salute he always did. The Captain had hoped for a selfish moment that he might keel over right there - but of course that didn’t happen. He left alive but never came back. Even if he had stayed on (and the older ones rarely did) the Captain had no way of knowing about it. Frankie would be trapped in some nursing home or hospital God knew how many miles away, if he was anywhere at all.

It was desperately unfair. But that was the nature of being a ghost. One didn’t stay, otherwise. It was unfair for Fanny, for Pat - all of them in some way. Though Thomas had probably deserved it.

“Captain?”

Speaking of whom. Thomas had entered completely silently, which the Captain knew none of them could help, but announcing oneself was really basic politeness.

“What do you want? I know this is your sighing place, but I’m not going.” The Captain’s voice cracked when he spoke, catching him by surprise.

“It’s fine,” Thomas said meekly. He sat down next to the Captain, avoiding eye contact. The Captain edged away from him.

“Can I help you, Thorne?”

“No, not exactly, I…” Thomas sighed abruptly, putting his head in his hands. “Oh, it’s useless, I have no idea what to say. I knew I should have asked Pat first.”

“I thought you were supposed to be good with words.”

“I  _ am _ . Why, I’ve composed verse that made grown men weep!”

“Apart from yourself?”

Thomas spluttered, but didn’t rise to it. “That doesn’t matter. I just wanted to say that I… I do feel dreadfully, erm… sorry.” The last word came out in a whisper.

“Sorry?”

“Yes. I’m very sorry for being -” Thomas paused for a moment, brow furrowed as if trying to recall a phrase. “For being home of phobic.”

“For - for  _ what _ ?” This was farcical. Couldn’t he leave the Captain in peace?

“Well, I don’t know! Alison was trying to explain to me what I’ve done wrong, dear girl, but it’s only confused me more. I mean, do  _ you _ know what an LGBT is?”

The Captain paused. “I think Julian said it was a sandwich.”

“You know as well as I do. Oh, Lord.” Thomas sunk into the window seat, as much as he could without falling through.

“Do you expect me to pity you?”

“No! I really do feel horrid, you know. I was only trying to make a fool of you.”

“Oh, well, that’s alright then.”

“ _ No _ \- look - I didn’t mean to upset you, but Alison explained the error of my ways - obviously I’ve caused you a great deal of pain -“

The Captain stiffened, disliking Thomas’s softening tone.

“And what would Alison know about it? I’m not  _ upset _ . No.” He folded his arms, avoiding Thomas’s eyes. “It’s been far too long for-“

“Oh, listen to me,  _ listen _ , you cantankerous old sod!” Thomas shouted suddenly. The Captain flinched. “I  _ know _ you’re upset. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be huddled up in  _ my _ sighing place all afternoon, you wouldn’t be hiding away here instead of ordering everyone around like usual, and in any case, anybody would be upset! I know I would!”

This anger was a little better, a little more usual, than Thomas’s painful attempts at apology. But the subject matter still made the Captain balk. He opened his mouth to retort with some lie about how little he cared, but Thomas went on before he could.

“We may not get along. And I may not understand your… your  _ proclivities _ , but I still saw you together and I  _ did  _ understand what was going on. You forget that I am a scholar of romance.”

He pronounced it  _ roh-mahnce _ . The Captain grimaced.

“That’s why I have never told anyone. Well, until today,” Thomas continued, reddening slightly and rubbing his neck. “I knew it wasn’t my right to - to spoil such a thing. Such a memory. But I’m afraid I rather lost my temper today. For that, I apologise.”

“I see.” The Captain couldn’t manage to say more. There was an ache in his chest, and Thomas peered at him, seeming to notice something.

“He was evidently very fond of you, Captain. Even if you were being something of a tosser at the time.”

“A what?”

“Julian says it.”

“Ah.” The Captain folded his hands in his lap, focusing on something on the opposite wall to maintain composure. “Do you think so?”

“Well, yes, I’ve heard him say it myself on a number of-“

“Not Julian. I mean about Francis. Do you really think that he was… fond?”

“Oh, I know so.”

“I see,” the Captain said again. He sniffed sharply. “I see.” He raised a hand to his face, tried to maintain posture, though there was no delaying the inevitable.

“Oh, no - now come along, Captain -“ Thomas floundered, patting the Captain’s shoulder awkwardly as he crumpled up into silent sobs. “It’s nothing to - well, I suppose it  _ is  _ something to be upset about, isn’t it.”

“Rather,” the Captain said, ignoring the instinct to swat Thomas’s hand away. At least he no longer had the mess and indignity of actual tears to deal with.

“Oh, there you are!” came a voice from above them. “Now, I’m still hashing out our club name - what do you make of Death by Misadventurers?”

“Oh, sod off, Julian!” Thomas shouted, putting an arm around the Captain’s shoulder.

 

Alison had tried to visit the library herself that afternoon, but was discouraged by Julian, who advised that the Captain and Thomas were ‘being weird in there’. Alison took this to mean that they were talking to each other without biting each other’s heads off, which was more than she’d expected.

She’d been worrying all day, and then getting annoyed with herself for worrying so much about what a couple of dead people were up to. She’d vented to Mike, but he hadn’t seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation. He called it ‘ghost drama’.

“We should get a film crew in here,” he’d said. “You can make a good reality show out of this. Big Ghost Brother.”

“They don’t show up on cameras. Remember when Kitty wanted to take a selfie?”

“Or ‘I’m a Ghost, Get Me Out of Here’. Real Houseghosts!”

They were giving her a wide berth today, which should have been a relief, but she was now having trouble enjoying her dinner, not only because Mike had tried to incorporate gooseberries into the bolognaise sauce (‘it’s tangy!’). It wasn’t that she cared what they thought of her - really it wasn’t - but she knew they had the ability to make her life extremely annoying if they were cross. It would be non-stop ‘Modern Major-General’ for the next decade if she couldn’t sort this out.

When the Captain passed through the wall, she jumped out of her seat (Mike, used to this sort of thing by now, didn’t even look up).

“Captain?”

“Hello, Alison,” he said, nonchalantly.

“Nice to see you’ve come out. Of the library!”

“Oh!” Mike waved from the table. “Congrats, mate.”

“Oh, yeah,” Alison said, avoiding the Captain’s severe look. “Mike wanted to say congratulations.”

“Whatever for?”

“Love is love!” Mike called.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alison said. “Look, I really just wanted to say - I’m really sorry about what happened with Thomas, I got carried away talking about Stacy Whitehouse -”

“Whom?”

“Hello, mate!” Pat came in from behind the Aga, followed swiftly by Kitty and Julian. Alison wondered if they’d been listening through the wall. “You alright?”

“Oh. Yes, quite,” the Captain said, looking perplexed as Mary, Robin and Humphrey came in too, followed by Fanny, trailing.

“‘Cause we just wanted to say, didn’t we, guys,” Pat said, “that we’re really glad to see you, and you’ll always be -”

“You’ll always be in charge of us, no matter what!” Kitty cried happily, grasping the Captain’s wrist. Alison had to move to avoid going through anyone, though she still caught Pat with her elbow.

“Well, not quite, Kitty,” he coughed.

“Yes, Kitty, don’t crowd the man,” Julian said, pushing  her out of the way. “You know, I was always opposed to Section 28.”

“Do men like you find my George handsome?” Fanny demanded. “Because I always thought he was a bit on the ugly side.”

“Guys -” Alison started. She caught sight of Mary examining Mike’s spaghetti bolognaise. He was sniffing his fork, confused.

“I think I burnt it a bit.”

Pat was now explaining Elton John. Alison had to peer around Kitty’s hairdo to make out the Captain’s face. He was looking as stern as ever, but his mouth started to twitch when Pat launched into a half-remembered Greatest Hits medley.

“All’s well that ends well,” she murmured, turning to return to her bolognaise, which actually looked quite appealing now.

“Plagiarism,” said a voice behind her.

“Hello, Thomas.”

“Good evening,” Thomas said, inclining his head. “Why’s Pat singing about crocodiles?”

“I don’t know. But well done.” She went to give him a friendly nudge, but stopped herself just in time.

“Ah, ‘twas nothing.”

“No it ‘twasn’t. I still haven’t got a minute alone with him. But I’m going to -”

She was cut off by Julian entering, very loudly, into a duet of ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ with Pat. Sighing, she turned back to her food.

“Mike, can we eat out on the patio?”

“Why? It’s chilly.”

“Mike, I really think we should eat outside.”

“But -  _ oh _ . Oh, yeah, okay.” He picked up his plate, waving vaguely. “Cheers, guys. Houseghosts.”

Alison began heading to the back door, Mike following.

“You know,” she said loudly, to Mike’s bemusement, “Elton John has a husband and two beautiful children.”

 


End file.
